


In the face of dawn

by demonn



Series: Let’s give this love a new name [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Ok I lied it’s a bit fluffy, Romance, Seriously though there was a lot of creepy behaviour from Steve, Steve Rogers (mentioned) - Freeform, Tony is very smooth, Wow this was smooth though, but he’s also thirsty, i really have no excuse not too have a boyfriend or girlfriend, i wrote this as an excuse to write smut, if I can make my characters this smooth why aren’t I this smooth in real life, james Barnes is confused, kind of, light angst but not fluffy, not quite a relationship yet though, quite a bit of introspection, shaved legs smooth, the tags are a mess, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 23:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17395436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonn/pseuds/demonn
Summary: “You’re not a dick,” James dared to say, turning around to look Tony in the eyes.  “I don’t know you all that well , but I know you’re not a dick. If more people actually took the time to look at you and listen to you before they started judging you ,they would realise you’re not a dick.”





	In the face of dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This is really just an excuse to write smut. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Before, when it was still cold and frozen, James Barnes , to the best of his ability, would try and imagine all the ways his life could have turned out. If, maybe , the war had never happened, he wouldn’t have ended up joining the army, and he would have lived a long and uneventful life with his wife or husband or whatever, having tea with Peggy Carter every Sunday afternoon and walking his dog in the early hours of the morning. He would have been able to spend more time with his sisters, he maybe he would still have gone by Bucky, maybe he would have even remained friends with Steve.

But, he had to remember that life didn’t work like that. He couldn’t magic himself into a new person, he couldn’t( he _wouldn’t_ )fall prey to the ensnarements of his own mind. It was dangerous, almost, getting himself lost in his own fantasy world, ignoring everything that was going around him with a dazed out smile.

(He longed to admit it was only dangerous because every time he got lost in those dreams, he would be forced to admit that in those dreams, he could never have Tony Stark. His white picket house and dog and husband would always be replaced with thoughts of _Tony,_   _Tony_ ,  _Tony_. It was infuriating. It left him hot and bothered in all the wrong ways. It left him clutching the sheets of his bed, trying to find the answers in the reflection of his mental arm. It left him wrecked, more shredded and torn than he had ever been. If angered him, yet spurred him to get out of bed and face the music.

If that was what Tony could drive him to accomplish when he wasn’t even there, he was way too excited to see what the man could spur him to do when he was real and physical and warm, not just this image in his brain.)

But when he awoke, the white picket fence melted into the stark lines of his room, lit up with the overhead light because he couldn’t bear to think about whether or not someone was staring at him from wherever they were, and so the windows remained permanently blacked out.

His husband would melt into the sight of Steve at the foot of his bed, watching him, his breathing erratic. James would have thought it was irrational ( who was he kidding? He thought it was irrational) but he had pulled many disappearing acts over the recent months and he always felt despairingly generous sleep-soft and half dizzy when he woke up.

He would always be annoyed by it later in the day, no matter how much he tried to trick himself into believing he was doing the right thing.

He reasoned that the simple truth was that he had not made himself to the right thing. It was selfish, and irresponsible and irrational of him to even condition himself into thinking that but to be honest? What was the point of doing the right thing. What was the point of letting Steve sleep at the foot of his bed, what was the point of always trying to smile around the Avengers, what was the point of making friends and maintaining friendships and turning up every night for dinner and making sure he went too rude and pissy and gloomy? What was the point of it all?

Hydra had made him a killing machine but to them it was the right thing? Steve and Natasha had destroyed the lives of thousands of people, so many of them were innocent, in one single moment but to them it was the right thing? The team bullied ( because what else was it, other than bullying?) the most influential member of their team and they were all so fucking convinced it was the right thing?

People had been trying to make him do the right thing for a century, ignoring what he wanted to do, what he wanted to try, what he wanted to be. He’d stuck fast, dug his heels into the dirt instead of running, and done what they had wanted to, had worked that slow , monotonous way of life until he died in that ravine and was reborn the soldier. Doing ‘good’ had bought him nothing but pain. For once in his meaningless existence, he wanted to do him.

Doing him meant kicking Steve out of his room the moment the man came in there, putting up a worthy argument and not crumbling under the mains weak excuses. Leaving if he didn’t comply.

Doing him meant eating dinner on his own, admitting to himself quietly that maybe the crowd wasn’t for him, and silently avoiding the team for a few hours, chasing the silence in his own room.

Doing him meant that he stopped forcing the smiles, he stopped being unnecessarily polite, starting todefending himself, starting to defend Tony.

He started to do things he hadn’t done before, shed the broken bits of his shell ( he always fancied himself as a hermit crab, moving from personality to personality like they moved from shell to shell, but at heart he was a Wolf, or a tiger maybe. He was used to being on his own) and salvaged the bits of his old self that he wanted to keep. He wasn’t Bucky Barnes, sure,it that didn’t mean every part of the man was undesirable. He would never have the mans charm or his way with words, but he knew their smile was similar because of photos and they had some of the same gestures.

(He also knew that underneath, they had the same sort of burning passion in their veins, that they loved with the same kind of ferocity and the same kind of deep seated lust. It made his stomach flip , nit in a bad way but not in a good way either , knowing that he still had to been able to shed the love Bucky Barnes had held , trapped in his bones and worked it into every way he had moved.

It was also comforting knowing that he could do the man some justice , by keeping that flighty feeling in his veins and maybe , one day , sharing it with someone.)

 

-

 

The sky was still dark when Tony stalked into the kitchen, the barely audible hum of extremis alerting James of his presence, the lights switching on once again with a faint flick. It caught on the panels of James’ arm, showing all the faint detailing and intricate marks.

“Oh,” Tony started,” You’re wake.”

James nodded even if he knew that Tony probably couldn’t see him. “I can’t sleep when Steve insists to lay at the foot of my bed.”

He could feel Tony’s eyes staring at the bare nape of his neck, he had pulled up his hair in haste as he had exited his bedroom.

“You know he can’t do that, right? You could forbid him access to your rooms. I know I seem like a dick that has no concerns for anyone’s privacy-“

“You’re not a dick,” James dared to say, turning around to look Tony in the eyes.“I don’t know you all that well, but I know you’re not a dick. If more people actually took the time to look at you and listen to you before they started judging you, they would realise you’re not a dick.”

Tony stared at him, hand stilling on the bowl he was grabbing. James watched intently as the bright blue he so often associated with extremis seeped into his eyes, rimming his whiskey orbs.

“I cannot change the truth.”

“I thought personal thoughts about people’s personalities were opinions.” A smile slipped into James’ face, slightly bitter. “Some people believe I’m a monster , some people think I’m worse, some people think I’m frail and delicate and unable to make my own decisions. All I can do is try and change what they think about me and continue living my life.”

“What do you think you are?” Tony asked, pulling his bowl onto the island so he could still look at James as he prepared his bowl of cereal. “Because personally, I would prefer to hear it from the person first before I hear it from others. Alas, life doesn’t often work that way.”

“I think I’m a bad person,” James said with a smile. “ but not for the reasons people think I’m a bad person. I’m selfish, I can be impolite, I can be rude and obnoxious and unreliable , I can be this one day and this the next and by god , do I love it.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed a bit before a smile slid onto his face, more vicious than mirthful. All sharp teeth and wicked lips. It made James smile a little wider. It was a pleasant, and surprising, experience, watching a man that was known as a demon amongst men, finally show the shades of himself that had made that rumour at least a little true.

All you needed was a little blood and Tony Stark would look like victory in motion.

“And I think that tells me all I need to know about you,” Tony said around a mouthful of lucky charms that James hadn’t even heard him pouring. He was too caught up in waxing poetic about the man in his head.

“I think there’s a lot more to know about me than just a few words about how much I hate almost everything about me but I’m too in love with myself to change anything about me,” James said with a shrug , replacing his grin with a dopey smile.

“I don’t know what you heard, but all you did was paint a picture of a man tired of getting let down by the people round him.”

“Oof, you got me there.” James turned back to the sunrise, the sky now painted a canvas of bleeding blues and pinks and purples, like a new bruise. “But there’s nothing I can do about it now, is there.”

Tony hummed, looking up at the sunrise as well. “I suppose it’s tragic that we will never be able to go back and change people’s first impressions of us. I mean, imagine how much easier life would be if people didn’t think I was a monster on first sight.”

“If there’s nothing I’ve learnt over the years,” James paused,” or anything I learnt then relearnt, is that there’s no use getting caught up in a dream about how things could have gone instead. All it does is cause you pain and anger and all the other things humans have no use for.”

“ _Emotions_?”

“That’s the word.” Tony let out a short, sharp laugh, tilting his head back and exposing his Adam’s apple.

“If I asked you to fall into my bed right now, what would you say?”

James froze. Tony had said the words with such frightening sincerity, such honesty, that it made James imagine the picket fenced house inn the suburbs again. He shook himself of the image, his legs widening subconsciously, not that Tony could see it anyways.

“And if I asked you why you wanted me in your bed?” James bit out the question with only a little hesitance. Tony was smooth, different from the man the Avengers had painted. Darker, more stoic, and _lord,_ did it do wonders for James body.

Tony smirked again, his eyes just shy of black, and James already knew that the question had been a long time coming. He guessed that maybe Tony had started thinking about it when the whiskey eyed man had pressed him up against the elevator and had watched as his cheeks darkened.

“First impressions do a lot for a man,” Tony said,” and for a mathematician , I’m not that good at counting.”

James fought back the rising blush on his face, watching as his hands clenched in an attempt to draw back the oncoming tide of arousal.

“I promise I won’t be too rough with you.” Tony’s voice had lowered into something dark and sultry. “I’m going out on a limb here, but I’m really sure you’ve been showing signs of wanting this package.”

James thought about the heated glances he’d accidental been sending Tony, how he always felt hot and flushed around the man, how he would sit in his workshop and watch as he worked in his arm. He thought about how he allows him to talk and he listened, how their sparring sessions would dissolve in playful punches that had Steve red with anger because he was never on the receiving end of one of those playful swats. He thought about how that one time, earlier the day before, when he’d been looking at Tony and the man noticed. He remembered not looking away.

“And if I do?”

Tony thought for a second, rolling the question over in his mind. “Normally I would say something really cheesy to answer that question, but I’m really trying to get you in my bed I that must wait.”

James laughed, soft and light in the face of dawn. “You really wanna jump my bones, handsome?”

“As long as your willing to bottom.”


End file.
